The Bridge to Insanity
by Swake23
Summary: Edward. Nygma. A man. A myth. A legend. Only one thing still haunts his memories. Only one thing will drive him to the brink of insanity and back.
1. Guilty Abyss

**The Bridge to Insanity**

 **Chapter One: Guilty Abyss:**

Edward was trying to keep his mind occupied as he strategically rearranged the furniture in the mansion for the hundredth time. He had begun to hum softly to himself. The ever growing feeling of being watched had become so unbearable and painstakingly nerve-racking that Edward felt his mind starting to go mad with anxiety and perplexed curiosity.

Upon scanning the empty room and coming up empty a shadow caught his eye. Sudden anger flashed through his body making his face grow hot and his mind to assume the blatant obvious of the situation. That a child had broken into the mansion and was acting a fool.

"Hey! Who's there!? I'm warning you! If you don't come out I will call the cops!", Edward tried to muster all the anger he had left to ensure that intruder took him seriously.

Silence. There was nothing but silence all around him. He felt drained and tired. He felt like he could sleep for a thousand years. Above all his heart ached of loneliness. He wanted to hear Oswald's voice again, but he knew that he would never hear it again.

The suffocation of his guiltiness was too overwhelming and thick. He slumped down on a couch and allowed silent tears to moisten his cheeks. He heavily sighed and closed his eyes.

" _And my mother watches oo-ver me_...ha if that were the truth than I would have seen her by now. Ed? Why such the long face? get it? long face? hehehehehe", A soft angelic voice probed the empty air.

Edward opened his eyes and saw Oswald standing over him with his head tilted to the left and smirking as if he had a really good secret that he didn't want to make known. Edward was so confused yet relieved to see Oswald. He stood up to hug him but hugged nothing but air.

"Ed, I'm not real, you know that, don't you?", Oswald's voice reached Edward's ears and Edward fell to the ground sobbing.

"I need you, Oswald, *sob* *sniff*, I thought that killing you would make me feel better, but, *sniff*, It just made me feel worse, *sob*, I'm so sorry, *sniff*, For shooting you and leaving you for dead.", tears of pain, tears of sorrow, and tears of anguish poured from his eyes as he explained his pain to the ghost of a lost friend.

"There, there, Ed, there, there, I'm not going anywhere until you move on, then I would simply disappear like Kristen Kringle did in the mirror. Besides, you did shoot me, didn't you? Let's face it, this is just a sick grieving method isn't it, Eddie, darling?", Oswald's voice was understanding yet prissy at the same time.

"How, how do you know about Kristen Kringle and her being in the mirror? Are you a ghost?", Edward quieted and looked up at Oswald who was lounging on the couch and twiddling his cane back and forth between his hands.

"To quote you about ghosts, you said quote: "ghosts aren't real" end quote, so no I must not be a ghost but, merely ah, let's say a projection of impulse, same as Kristen Kringle, am I right? The only one that you are not seeing is Is-a-Bellllla, am I right? You see, you only see the people that you cared about if you actually killed them.", Oswald mused, smiling.

"But, what? Are you saying that I only see my loved ones after they died at my hands and have become overwhelmingly guilty? I only saw Kristen in the mirror that one time. I never saw her before or after that. And Isabella? Are you implying that I'll never hallucinate Isabella because I didn't have a hand in her murder?", Edward was exasperated and angered by the truth of things.

"Precisely, lover boy, you greatly admired me and are overwhelmingly guilty because you pulled the trigger, thus you were also overwhelmingly guilty when you saw Kristen Kringle in the mirror months after you _accidentally_ strangled her to death because you killed her last boyfriend and she was terrified of oh, yes, _YOU_. Am I leaving anything out?", Oswald's temper was slowly boiling in his imaginary veins because Edward was becoming more and more angry at the topic of the discussion.

Edward stood up and grabbed the lamp and angrily chucked it at Oswald who had vanished by the time the lamp reached the couch. Sighing, he walked over to the couch and picked up the lamp and walked over to the lamp's original stand and put it back.

Grunting, he grabbed the lamp again and chuck it at the wall adjacent to the lampstand; it shattered on impact. Edward then ransacked the whole lounge before sinking back onto the couch weary and emotionally burnt out. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

 **Thirty Minutes Later:**

Edward awoke to a soft chuckling that came from everywhere yet nowhere at the same time. He sat up wearied eyed and sleep deprived and tried scanning the room again but sleep took over and he slumped backward upon the couch letting his heavy eyelids close and a dreamless sleep prevailed, or so he thought.

"Oh, Ed, you _big, silly, lovesick, lover boy_. How on earth do you cope with such tragedy and pain, and suffering? *pout* You are such an empathetic _loser_. Letting your _emotions_ get in the way. You'll never run Gotham that way. You'll just be put back into Arkham at this rate. Hahahahahahahahahaha...", the laughter consumed Edward's mind as it slowing ate away at his soul. Oswald's voice echoed in the void.

It kept telling him that "he was a loser" and that "he will never run Gotham being as pathetic as he was". Oswald taunted and teased Edward with unearthly malice and hate.

"What would you even call yourself? _McRiddles_? _Riddle Dee Dee_? Oh, I know, how about _Riddles the Clownfish_? I'd would call you, oh I don't know, hmmm, the _Riddleghiest_. You know why? Because you would haunt people with your stupidly complex riddles, that's why.", Oswald's voice was crisp and angry, with good reason.

After all, he had shot the man that he had begun to hallucinate him; all because of murdered love in the first degree. Edward wrestled with his inner demon of sorts trying rid Oswald from his mind, body, and soul forever. There had to be a way to be reborn anew and without the Penguin.

Oh, how he wished for a clear sane mind as of now. Oh, why was Oswald so deep within his roots? Why wouldn't he just go away? Oswald's words echoed in his ears, _"You need me Edward Nygma, You can't have one without the other."_ Deep down he knew that the Penguin would always be apart of him, however, a small part of him knew that he did not need the Penguin. At least not anymore.

He knew one thing for certain that he needed to distance himself from the Penguin as much as possible. Until then, Oswald would become an annoying poltergeist of sorts. Grunting, he focused on what Oswald was trying to convey. He needed a name and a reason for his schemes and criminal mayhem. For now, he needed sleep and lots of it.

He couldn't deny that there was someone inside of him dying to come out. But who? Was the question. That person needed to come out, and for that to happen he needed a name. For, being good wasn't worth it anymore and his evil side wanted to come out and play.


	2. Oh, Oswald, Oswald

**Chapter 2: Oh, Oswald, Oswald**

Edward sat at the desk he used to use as his Chief of Staff desk staring blankly at the words that were scrawled down in Oswald's handwriting. It was a note addressed to Edward Nygma and no one else. ?It read as follows:

 _Edward,_

 _If you are reading this I just want you to know that I ...well...how should I put this? I had Isabella killed because I very much believed that I loved you, and going back now I can see my mistake._

 _I regret what I have done and nothing is going to keep you in my life now. I need you understand how SORRY I really am for taking away the one thing that you actually loved and NEEDED more than anything else in this bitterly cruel and loveless world._

 _For I never knew what I had until I lost it. When you walked away from me after I told you of my love for you I should have known then, that, you wouldn't let me forget that I BROKE your heart and for that, I am truly sorry._

 _I hope that you are reading this before you kill me, for I could never bring myself to apologize to you in person. I know that you will hate me forever, but I just NEED you to know that I will always love you and that I AM SORRY FOR ISABELLA._

 _Just please listen to me one last time. I LOVE you. I NEED you. Above all, I will ALWAYS WANT you. However, I will understand if you don't love, or need, or even want me because I hurt you so badly and I am sorry for everything I have done to you this past couple of weeks leading into months._

 _Just, PLEASE find a way to forgive me, even when I am dead. I was so self-centered and for that, I shall have paid the price for my mistake and my sins upon sins. Just know that you will see me in hell when you eventually die._

 _You too will never see your loved ones after death. Don't be afraid though, I don't think hell will be all that bad._

 _One last note: Tell Olga that she was right, I could have done better than you, ha. Give her my love for me. I'll see you soon sweetie. Just wait for me, please? Til then, I will say my ado for now. Love you forever._

 _Your Lil' Pengy,_

 _Oswald Cobblepot_

 _P.S. Don't do anything stupid while I am gone. Hugs and kisses._

A Penguin was stamped at the end of the letter. Edward's eyes were misty and red. He had reread the letter a hundred times over, his eyes growing mistier the more he read it. Sighing deeply, he gently and neatly folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope.

He wiped his eyes and sniffled back meaningless tears of remorse and grief. He tried to register emotions of kindness and sadness for his lost friend and found that he felt nothing for him anymore.

All there was left was an empty husk of a man who used to love and laugh and cry, but now there is nothing but darkness and the bitter reminiscence of anger that had long since passed since the day on the docks.

This letter created false feelings of regret and sadness and remorse. Sitting on that desk life was losing its gleam and luster of vitality and happiness. He was becoming emptier and emptier inside as he let his darkness consume him and slowly make him mad with making those around him suffer at the hands of their own incompetence and overwhelming ignorance of the world around them. He felt himself becoming a man of sadistic and psychopathic tendencies that would never go away.

Nonetheless, Edward began to systematically shuffle his papers on his desk being sure to place the letter under the false bottom of the third drawer on the left side of the desk. A soft breeze rustled into the room through the open window, ruffling his hair and cooling his forehead where perspiration had begun to form. The air was cool and crisp, almost as if you were biting into a cool, crisp apple at the peak of its perfection of ripeness. Oh, how the sweet air lingered like the sweet juices of a fresh crisp apple on one's tongue.

Not even a whisper stirred the air around him. Nor did a deep sigh or a throaty grunt disturb the peaceful nature of the atmosphere around him. He felt as if he were in his own little bubble that was impenetrable by everything that would disrupt his peaceful equity of the fading afternoon into evening. The gentle breeze systematically and softly ruffled and swished his short cropped brown hair as if they were the tender fingers of his mother as she gently combed his hair with her fingers.

Sighing, he leaned back in his office chair and closed his eyes and solely focused on the heavenly sensation of gentle touches and kisses from the ever so gentle breeze that swirled and danced around him. He was so deeply relaxed and calm that he scarcely heard the voice that had spoken, gently shattering the calm quiet surrender of the softly fading afternoon.

" _Hmm, hmm hmm hmm...*sigh*"_ Oswald's gentle tune was carried slowly yet softly to Edward's ears as he lay sleeping in his office chair.

His fingers curled themselves into Edward's hair as he gently hummed his lullaby. Gentle wisps of dancing fingers slowly and gently began to softly trace the contour of Edward's face. Edward was calm and peaceful and greedily drank in the sweet touches that Oswald gave him as the seconds ticked on to minutes, and minutes ticked on for hours.

By the time night fell, Edward was still leaning against his office chair, deeply sleeping. The air grew cold and caused him to gently shiver as he slowly awoke to find himself in growing darkness and utterly alone in the painstakingly bitter silence that pounded in his ears.

If only he weren't so stiff and cramped. He stood up and slowly and carefully stretched his whole body from head to toe in order to regain feeling and control of his limbs and body. He walked over to the window and closed it up tight and locked it up tightly. Afterward, he sauntered to the kitchen to get something to nibble on.

Once in the kitchen, he began to tirelessly search through the cupboards and refrigerator in order to find something filling and satisfactory until morning. He ended up deciding to have a peanut butter, honey, and banana sandwich (Oswald's go to afternoon snack when Olga was napping). A gentle smile formed on his face as he remembered catching Oswald having a midnight snack of peanut butter, honey, and banana smashed between two fresh slices of whole grain white bread.

He remembered so clearly.

 _Flashback 1: Oswald's midnight snack:_

 _Edward heard soft clanging in the kitchen as he headed past it to go to the bathroom. Not thinking much of it he went to bathroom and it wasn't until he was returning from the bathroom when the clanging became slightly louder and a whispered curse was emitted and angry, limping stomps and patting of bare feet was heard, along with a soft clatter of something metallic in nature into something ceramic in nature._

 _Edward ventured into the kitchen and found the source of all the sounds. He found Oswald standing near the kitchen counter somewhat angrily munching on a peanut butter, banana and honey sandwich. While the jar of peanut butter lay haphazardly on its side upon the floor with some of its contents spilled onto the floor along with few dribbles of honey smeared onto the floor._

 _Oswald's hands were also smeared with peanut butter and honey along with bits and pieces of banana stuck under his nails. He looked up when Edward had entered the kitchen and surveyed the damage or shall he say the mess that Oswald had made._

 _"Well, what happened in here? It's a mess, Oswald!", his tone came out sharper than he intended it to be and slightly louder than anticipated causing Oswald to bow his head in shame and gently twist his mangled right ankle._

 _"I was just hungry and dropped the peanut butter because of my stupid limp.", Oswald huffed and bit a large chunk of his sandwich, angrily chewing, causing a little peanut butter and banana to be squeezed out of his mouth a bit._

 _"And you left the peanut butter on the floor?! You even got honey on the floor! My God, Oswald, why can't you prepare and eat food without making a big mess?", Edward calmed down a bit towards the end._

 _"Well, can't Olga clean it up? I mean, not to be rude but, she is my, our housemaid.", Oswald smacked his response due to the excessive amount of peanut butter in his mouth which globed onto the sandwich, which was pooping in his hands as he squeezed it flatter and took another bite._

 _"Oh, you are hopeless, Oswald. You are supposed to make a housemaid's work easier not harder if you want to make a gentleman's impression. You are not leaving this kitchen until you've cleaned up your mess and yes that includes whatever dishes you used.", Edward used a stern, authoritative voice to convey that he was serious._

 _In response, Oswald childishly stuck out his peanut butter and banana slick tongue at Edward before resuming his munching. Which in turn made Edward chuckle and stand in the doorway until Oswald obliged and cleaned up his mess (starting with his face, hands, and pajama shirt collar). As Oswald methodically and calmly cleaned and dried all the surfaces that he made a mess on before finally washing the sticky knife that he had haphazardly discarded into the sink._

 _Edward watched as Oswald limped around the kitchen cleaning and organizing it as he went. A dark, partially dried wet spot caused his soft pajama collar to crinkle as the stain slowly set in. The redness on Oswald's hands and face brought to light how sensitive his skin was. Adding to the sensitivity was the occasional breakouts that were caused by stress and Oswald's over-productive oil glands in his forehead, cheeks, and chin. Occasionally he would get pimples on his earlobes in events of abnormally high stress._

 _When the kitchen was thoroughly cleaned and dried they made their way back to bed. Oswald was still munching on his midnight snack as he limped back up the stairs and down the hall to his right to his room. Edward followed suit, just going in the opposite direction down the hall to his left to his room. The rest of the night was quiet and calm. He didn't even remember falling asleep, but he assumed that he did because he woke up the next morning fully rested and ready for another full day of work._

 _End of Flashback 1: Oswald's midnight snack._

Oswald was so childish and Edward felt a sense of authority over the mayor of Gotham. Why hadn't Oswald come up to him when he was trying to confess his love to Edward and ask him what love was instead? Maybe he wasn't thinking about that. He was one for doing things in the moment. Never thinking them through all the way until it was too late. Like Isabella for example.

He sighed and finished his sandwich, cleaned the kitchen, and then headed off to bed. One last thought crossed his mind: Just maybe, maybe Oswald wasn't dead yet...just...maybe...


	3. Losing Grip of Realities to Come

**Chapter 3: Losing Grip of Realities To Come:**

Edward sat crumpled in his bed, hair a mess, and his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he gazed down upon a photo album and down at the smiling face of Oswald who was, at the time of the picture, in the kitchen trying unsuccessfully to make pancakes. Oswald kept burning them because he let them sit too long. Edward had to take over and make some more non-crispy pancakes. It was the happiest time of their lives. Just hearing Oswald's laughter was enough to make you smile and laugh along with him.

Edward sat there deep in thought as he shifted through the album; growing tired with every flip of the laminated pages of photographs. Yawning he closed the album and set it gently on his nightstand. He curled up underneath his blankets and fell asleep right as his head hit the pillow. His dreams were absurd, to say the least.

 _Flashback via a Dream:_

 _Edward was sitting on the couch coughing and rubbing his reddened, sore neck as Oswald gave him a cup of ginger tea. Oswald's voice was soft and crystalline and pure._

 _"It's ginger tea with honey; my mother's remedy for a sore throat." he reiterated Edward's thoughts._

 _Edward smiled and thanked him for the tea by accepting the cup of tea and gingerly sipping it as he fought the urge to cough again. He felt the tea fall soothingly down his throat soothing and calming his cough. His skin around his throat still burned from the friction from Butch's metallic hand(s). What distracted him was Oswald's concerned eyes searching Edward's face for any sign of weakness, either mentally, physically, or emotionally._

 _The only thing he probably found was a thick wall that guarded and protected Edward from everyone else's ill-manners and ill-fated attempts to get him to look the fool. Edward in turned searched Oswald's face and found fondness and concern and a deep-rooted need to comfort or to be comforted (by) Edward. He couldn't be certain which it was or if it was both._

 _"Oswald, I want you to know that I would do anything for you; and that I will always be here for you." Edward had uttered with implicated sweetness and earnest truth._

 _Oswald just stared at him with a mix of emotions that Edward could not identify nor separate. Was it love? Or was it overwhelming joyfulness? Or how about complete and utter happiness? surely 'love' wasn't one of the emotions right? That's just preposterous. Oswald, "in love" with me. Ha! After what he's been through the last thing on his mind is love. Right? Edward was so confused._

 _When Oswald hugged him it caught him off guard, "Thank you.", was all Oswald could manage to say as he wrapped his left hand lovingly around the curve of Edward's right shoulder._

 _Edward just hugged him back without saying a word, for 'your welcome' didn't seem sufficient enough. However, the emotion that welled itself inside Edward's chest was indescribable because he did not want to admit that he had feelings for a man, but not just any man, the Mayor of Gotham no less. It was nothing sexual but emotional no less. He did not know if Oswald felt the same or if it was even possible for Oswald to feel the same way or not._

 _Edward felt his heart weigh itself down with immense self-doubt of anything Oswald portrayed on the outside that could possibly match what was being hidden on the inside. They stayed in the embrace for what seemed like centuries before they parted and awkwardly sat next to each other. After a split second Oswald had retired to his study to read that day's paper before retiring to bed; leaving Edward all by his lonesome to think and come to a supporting conclusion of today's activities._

 _Edward's head had started to throb so badly that he had to put the cup down and curl up on the couch and rest his head on the soft cushions that gave excellent support. He closed his eyes and tried to file that day's events carefully and fully. But the thing that filled his mind was Oswald and his adorable shortness and his limp that made him walk funny. He knew he shouldn't laugh at Oswald's injury, but he couldn't help it, Oswald looked like a chicken with its head cut off when he tried to walk or run fast._

 _Edward kept going over Oswald's feature's over and over again. He went over every curve and every point and every color of Oswald's eyes, nose, cheeks, ears, hair, hands, and his body. He even went over every stitch of Oswald's beautifully stitched and designed three-piece suits that he wore every day of the week including the weekends._

 _After a moment Edward found himself in Oswald's room staring at him drinking in every facet of his awkward beauty that twisted and smoothed as Oswald's eyes fluttered in his sleep._

 _What was he dreaming about? Was he dreaming about conquering the world? Maybe he was dreaming about his mother and her warm embraces and gentle caresses. Oh, how Oswald missed his mother. Edward couldn't really relate. For Edward never knew his own mother. Edward could only guess what it would feel like to lose your mother, but even that was half-hearted at best._

 _Edward sat down gently on Oswald's bed on the right. He began to caress Oswald's face and hair only slightly aware that a fire was slowly beginning to burn in his loins. Edward tried to ignore the signals that his body was giving him whenever he looked at or was in the same room as Oswald. The fire grew worse but was still bearable. He felt at peace near Oswald. That quirky smile of some unknown secret. His unkempt yet stylish hair. But above all, it was his silverish crystal blue-green eyes that trapped Edward in their gaze. They were a child's wondrous eyes. Yearning for approval and acceptance and companionship._

 _It sometimes pained Edward's heart when he saw the sadness in those eyes. Why Oswald always seemed sad was beyond his comprehension of that subject. Edward sighed and gently kissed Oswald's unusually hot forehead. Edward proceeded to check Oswald's temperature and realized that He had a slight fever. Poor Mayor is slightly ill. Worry swept over Edward as he knew if Oswald was ill he would be unable to function properly in the morning._

 _A soft sniffle and a choked cough gurgled their way out of Oswald causing him to awaken and sit up in his bed. A series of racking coughs erupted from Oswald's throat causing him to gasp for breath as snot ran down his nostril and upper lip. Edward grabbed the tissue box that was on Oswald's nightstand and helped unclog his nose. With his nose cleared his cough slackened and calmed letting him breathe normally again._

 _"Thank you, Ed", Oswald muttered sleepily._

 _"You're welcome, sweetheart. Would you like me to get you some cold medicine so that you sleep better?", Edward replied longingly._

 _"That would be much appreciated, darling, *yawn* I...hmmm...*soft snort* like you...*yawn*..very much", Oswald had sleepily muttered softly._

 _Edward hugged Oswald a little longer before propping him up on his pillows and going to fetch some multi-symptom cold medicine. When he returned he saw Oswald was standing facing his dresser and his shoulders were heaving up and down and soft steady sniffles were emitted from him. In that moment Edward realized that Oswald was crying. He put the cold medicine on the nightstand and strode over to him and pressed Oswald's tear-soaked face to his nightshirt as he rocked him gently back and forth in an attempt to soothe his broken baby bird._

 _Oswald quieted and wrapped his arms around Edward's lower back gently squeezing. He adjusted his head so that his right cheek was gently pressed against Edward's chest as he pressed his eyes closed. In that moment Edward realized the gravity of the situation; Oswald wanted or maybe needed Edward for comfort and companionship. However, Edward realized how much Oswald was crippling himself by leaning on others for love and support._

 _After a few moments, a sharp and shrill beeping caught Edward's attention as the surroundings turned into black sludge around him and a cold hand slapped him hard across the face._

 _End of Flashback via a dream_

Edward blinked for several moments before he opened his eyes and realized the smack wasn't a hand but the hardwood floor and the sharp beeping was some sort of alarm. He didn't even remember setting the alarm. Weird, he thought. He must be going crazy. Wait, the beeping was calming and quieting, it was just his ears. Too much quiet in such a big manor, mansion, or whatever.

He stretches himself as he stood up. Yawning he went the bathroom to perform his morning ritual. As he was preparing for a shower a shadow in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he tried to shrug it off but there was a sinking feeling in his gut. It couldn't be Hallucinationary Oswald because he hadn't taken any drugs yet. Edward continued to prepare himself and was actually in the shower when a familiar face popped up causing a shrill scream to erupt from his throat.

"Oswald?! What are you doing here?! I am not in a drug-induced hallucination, am I?", Edward shrilly uttered.

"Oh, shush, Eddy I am not a hallucination or am I? Actually, I am not but I was wondering if you would stop screaming for a moment and talk to me. Pretty please?", Oswald's voice was soft and even and slightly agitated with good cause.

"Oh, uh, okay.", Edward said out of breath from screaming so much.

It was in that moment that Edward actually realized that Oswald was actually there and naked, well, they were in the shower, oh hell, it was weird to be looking at Oswald's pale, unhealthily skinny body as droplets of water from the water spout landed on his pale, shivering skin. Oswald's hair looked darker due to it being wet. His right ankle was an unsightly, twisted mess that was swollen and bruised. Edward hated to think about how scathed and bruised his ankle joint and shine bone looked beyond the twisted swollen mass that was his flesh.

"*Swallowing*...So Oswald, what, um, what would you like to take about?", Edward said hesitantly.

"Well...I was going to ask you why you felt it necessary to um, let's see what's the right word, oh yes, torture me, however, I think I know the answer. Isabellaaaa. Am I right?", Oswald's voice was cold and hurt.

"Well...if...if you hadn't...if you hadn't told her that I never loved her then you would be unscathed...", Edward sniffed angrily.

"Edward, I told her the truth that she was just a rebound after your stint with Kristen Kringle, who, If I remember correctly, you murdered because she didn't want you!", Oswald was shaking at this point.

Edward stayed silent, unable to focus because Oswald was standing too close and he couldn't keep his prying eyes from Oswald's waste. He thought softly to himself, 'wow, big things do come in small packages; hehe. Oh, You are so immature Nygma'. He was angry at himself for being so immature at a moment like this.

"Oswald, Maybe we talk some more later...errrrrr...your nudity is throwing me mentally off balance by the mere fact that well, big things do come in small packages...too much?", Edward spoke before he could hone in an appropriate response.

"Well, that was...let's just say that was..well...I don't know...a compliment on my package? To be truthful I was just wondering what you would do if I showed up naked..shower or no shower...too much information?", Oswald went down a calmer train of thought that took Edward by surprise.

"Well, now that I think of it no it wasn't too much information, Mr. Penguin. How about we shower together and talk later okay sweetums?"Edward uncontrollably cooed.

Edward saw Oswald's face redden like a lobster that has been boiled to perfection as he just stared at Edward in utter shock and slight disbelief, to say the least. After a moment of silence Oswald reached up and placed a hand on Edward's cheek and said, "I am not here, Edward, you need to wake up now."

Startled, Edward slipped and fell backward hitting his head on what served as a wall before he finally awoke to shiver and was frightened that he had never actually woke up in Oswald's house and that Oswald was never there, to begin with. For he sat alone in the darkness of his studio apartment yearning for the morning so that he could see Oswald again. Besides Oswald wasn't even the mayor, nor would he be anytime soon.


End file.
